Upon the Road to Val Royeaux
by NDrakkon
Summary: Set during the time period of Dragon Age: Asunder. Three travelers meet on a road heading towards the capital of Orlais. One is a Grey Warden on a mission, another a craftsman with wares to sell, and the third is the Champion of Kirkwall. They will share a brief adventure as they try to reach Val Royeaux. Warning: some mild swearing, strong violence.


**Dragon Age: Upon the Road to Val Royeaux**

It was midmorning when he neared the crossroads. The Grey Warden knew he was close to the end of his journey; the capital of Orlais. Perhaps early evening would see him inside Val Royeaux. Aristide, despite years of fighting darkspawn, was more nervous about that prospect than he would have thought possible when given the task. 'Deliver this message', the Commander had told him, and Aristide was not one to ask what the message actually was. He simply took the proffered letter and took his leave. He had not been back to Val Royeaux often since joining the wardens; something he was glad of. Still, Aristide was not the sort of man to avoid his duty, as being a Grey Warden had become very important to him despite the circumstances of his recruitment.

His order of thoughts was disrupted when a voice called out, "Hail there."

Aristide looked about and saw a man approaching from the south-eastern road. He should have been aware; the past was clouding his senses. He returned the greeting guardedly, "Hail."

The man reached Aristide at the centre of the crossroads. The man said "Well met, my friend. If you're on the way to fair Val Royeaux perhaps we could travel together?"

Aristide regarded the man carefully. He seemed a common man, not like to cause trouble, but one could never be sure. Still, Aristide was armed and armoured, his Grey Warden armour showing beneath the long brown travelling coat he wore. The man on the other hand was slightly overweight, bald, wearing simple clothes of muted hues, and appeared unarmed. Reluctantly he said "It is a free road, unless the Empress has begun a toll since last I came here."

The other man chuckled and replied "No tolls but my taxes are high enough." He extended his hand as he said "Zacharie Marcellin Dubois, carpenter and artisan, at your service. And you're a Grey Warden!"

Clearly the man had just noticed his armour. Aristide returned the handshake and said "I am a warden, my name is Aristide Séverin." Sometimes he forgot that to some a Grey Warden was a rare sight. Aristide himself must have looked quite disappointing to some, given the often heroic descriptions of the Grey Wardens who slay darkspawn and stop blights. He was a reasonably tall man, broad-shouldered and bulky in his armour, but he was nearing fifty and had never been particularly handsome. His close-cropped hair was beginning to recede. Its chestnut brown colour was going to grey around his temples and patches here and there. His eyes were flint, hard but not cruel. They spoke of discipline. His face was tanned by long hours walking in the sun. It was lined by work, war, and burdens. He had a scar running down his chin, a deep groove where stubble would not grow. His right earlobe had been hacked off and following the rough line of where the lobe was gone, a scar crossed his cheek. From the looks of the wound it was not from a straight-bladed sword but an axe instead.

Dubois nodded, "That name sounds familiar, have we perhaps met before?"

"I do not believe so," Aristide said, trying to keep his voice calm.

Dubois did not seem to notice, saying "Oh well, it's likely nothing then. The way my mind works I'd forget my own name if the wife didn't insist on shouting it at me when I'm late for dinner."

They began walking, Aristide adjusting his quick stride to let the shorter Dubois keep up. The carpenter also had a full, heavy pack on his back, where Aristide only had a small pack containing his food and other essentials.

As they walked Dubois wiped sweat from his brow with a scrap of cloth. "Hot out here today."

"Aye," Aristide replied. He was not a man for small talk, preferring to keep his words few and to the point.

Dubois was the opposite, amiable and willing to talk. He patted his pack, "I'm on the way to our grand capital to sell the wooden carvings I make. What business brings a Grey Warden here?"

Tersely Aristide said "Grey Warden business."

"Well..." Dubois seemed quite abashed, a flush creeping into his plump cheeks.

Aristide spoke again "That was rude, my apologies. I carry a message, I can say no more."

Smiling, Dubois replied "I understand my friend, I ask too many questions."

Aristide nodded once. He scratched the stubble along his jaw-line and asked "There is still a ways to go, are you not late for market? And why walk alone, I've heard the roads are not as safe as in other years. Dangerous folk about."

Dubois's green eyes twinkled; he relished a chance to talk. He explained "My village is only a couple of miles away, and sweet Val Royeaux will be in sight in a few more. Normally I travel with a merchantman's caravan but they are not coming this time, ill unfortunately. So I am glad for company upon the road." The portly man took a breath before adding, "As for the market, I'll be staying overnight at a friend's home. I'll be attending tomorrows market."

Aristide only nodded. Almost on a whim he looked over his shoulder. He was surprised to spot a figure walking the road behind them. Perhaps that was foolish; this was a road to the capital of Orlais after all. Still, he had a sense of foreboding about the figure, who was concealed in a dark green hooded cloak. The figure was rapidly gaining on them. He said to Zacharie "It seems we are not the only travellers on the road today."

"Oh," Dubois said, turning. "We should wait for them."

Aristide said "Very well. Still, keep walking so they do not think us brigands."

"Surely not?" Dubois said aghast. "You've mentioned trouble on the road, have you heard something? News does not travel quickly to my village I'm afraid."

Aristide answered "Mostly rumour, but I encountered some thugs on the way from Montsimmard."

The carpenter was clearly nervous about that. He said with some bluster, "The Army would never let such near the capital."

Aristide had no answer for that. If what they had heard was true there was not much of an army here right now. The Grey Wardens might have contacts about the land, but not all they heard was true.

Aristide maintained his pace. It was actually only a short time before the figure caught up to them. The voice caused him to stop and turn, "Hello."

He replied "Hello, my lady." The young woman in the dark green cloak was tall, about two inches taller than Aristide, who was just under six foot.

Dubois bowed low with a flourish, "Milady, Zacharie Marcellin Dubois, at your service. May I inquire if you require company on the road?"

The woman said in a clipped manner, "Not necessary, I can look after myself."

Dubois was politely insistent, coming across as slightly condescending without meaning to be. He said "You are welcome to walk with us, milady. It would be safer for you, I think. We would be honoured to escort you to Val Royeaux if that is your destination, wouldn't we, Aristide?"

Aristide was not perturbed by female warriors as Dubois clearly was; he had fought alongside several women in the Grey Wardens. In his opinion anyone could be a competent fighter if trained, and the wardens were not wasteful, training was ever-present. Still, he found the power of speech had failed him; there was something about this woman that awed him. She had a presence about her that made her seem more than any normal human. Aristide looked at the woman. She was pretty and stern. She had short, choppy black hair, and brilliant blue eyes. Her jaw was set pugnaciously. It was not like him to be so intrigued by someone, especially someone at least a decade his junior.

The woman replied to Dubois directly "I don't really need an escort. I'm rather used to travel, and my own defence."

The carpenter frowned, nodded cheerfully, and then said "Your accent, not Orlesian certainly, but I can't place it."

The green-cloaked lady answered with a slight smirk, "Fereldan, by way of the Free Marches." Looking between the carpenter and Aristide the woman said with a deeper smirk, "Your friend's a Grey Warden. Aristide, was it? You don't talk much."

Aristide replied "Yes my lady, Aristide Séverin. And no, I don't."

"Hmm, a mysterious man in uniform, now there's an interesting prospect." She responded.

Aristide cleared his throat, hoping to the Maker he was not blushing. He said "If you say so, my lady."

"I've met a few Grey Wardens. They're... interesting to say the least." A look of distance seemed to creep across her face, as if she was remembering things both exciting and sombre. As suddenly as the look had appeared it was gone, replaced with the confident smirk once more.

Aristide said simply "A mixed opinion seems to be what I encounter most from people."

Dubois broke the slightly awkward silence, "Might we know your name, milady?"

"A lady should keep some secrets," was her cryptic response.

"Of course, I didn't mean to pry. I'm travelling to market and the warden bears an important message, how about you?"

Aristide was angered that Dubois would so casually speak of someone else's purpose, yet he was too entranced by the curious woman to say so. She said "I'm something of an adventurer and I've not been to Val Royeaux before. Quite the sight, I'm told." Underneath her green cloak the adventurer wore a simple leather jerkin over a black silk tunic. Faded travelling boots with gold scroll-work embossed around the trim indicated rich clothing well used. She also wore loose trousers of a tan colour. Her outfit was finished with a sword belt hanging at an angle on her hips. The belt was leather the colour of silver and many pouches and containers were attached to it. The twin short swords she wore were in silver scabbards etched with patterns of ivy in black. Speaking of the weapons she said "I call them Dawn and Dusk, and sometimes the Ladies, I can't stick to just one name." She nodded in the direction they were heading, "Someone told me the city is even impressive from a distance."

Aristide nodded, "It is something to behold."

"It sounds like you know it well."

The Grey Warden replied with a measure of sadness in his voice, "Once perhaps, but it has been many years since I knew it well."

The green-cloaked woman began walking and they followed. She said idly "I sense a story there."

Dubois asked "So you lived in Val Royeaux before becoming a warden?"

"Yes," was all Aristide said.

The small group continued on in silence for a time. Even Dubois was quiet. They fell into a rough column as the area around the road became lightly wooded. A mile ahead the road would dip before rising to the point where Val Royeaux would be visible. Aristide could see it in his mind, like the last time when he looked back on it after becoming a warden recruit. He pulled slightly ahead, Dubois about four paces behind, and Green Cloak bringing up the rear.

While a Grey Warden could sense darkspawn due to the taint, the wardens had taught Aristide other things. Battle sense he would call it. In his gut Aristide could feel they were walking into trouble. He resisted the urge to reach for his old arming sword, as that might lead to arrows raining if his sense was accurate. Better to let things play out. Bandits were lazy and cowardly, like all bullies, they would rather have valuables handed to them meekly with a show of numbers than going to the effort to fight. Too much chance of picking a fight they might lose.

Aristide kept his feelings to himself; it would not do to worry his companions unduly. When they reached the thickest part of the wooded area his sense proved well founded.

Nine men emerged from cover and moved to block them. Aristide stopped short, taking up a wide stance and kept the men in his vision as they moved to surround them in a semi-circle. One of the bandits, a dark-eyed man with lank hair and a hook nose, said "Hand over your weapons and coin and we'll let you go unharmed, friends."

Aristide looked the man in the eye and said grimly "That won't happen. Walk away or die." He laid his hand on the hilt of his sword for emphasis. His arming sword bore the sigil of his family, a red lion's paw horizontal. It was embossed on the crossguard, made from carnelian. The Séverin family banner had been that same red lion's paw horizontal on a blue and white halved field. He still bitterly remembered that banner burning in the chill morning.

Another bandit stepped forward, brandishing a mace. He was a big slab of meat with cauliflower ears, and a brutish face, that no amount of punching could make uglier. He grunted, "Ay, don't try anything. You think two of you are gonna stand a chance against all o' us?"

It was then that Aristide spotted Green Cloak behind the bandit scum, blades drawn. He was surprised but managed to keep his expression neutral. He only hoped Dubois would not give the game away. The craftsman was frozen in fear beside him. The Grey Warden smiled, although there was no mirth in it. He said "You know what I like about bandits? You're too stupid to count."

That had kept them focussed on Aristide long enough for Green Cloak to strike. She moved with speed and grace, rising up behind one bandit and slashing his throat with her swords. Even as he crumpled to the dirt spraying blood, the woman was carving right into the next enemy.

Aristide burst into movement, his arming sword sweeping out of the brown leather scabbard and cleaving the outstretched arm of the ugly mace-wielder. A second and third bandit died in a blur as the Grey Warden lunged, slashed, whirled, and thrust.

By now the survivors were trying to mount some offence, two turning to attack Green Cloak and two charging Aristide. Ugly was on his knees at Aristide's flank, screaming as he vainly tried to stop the blood jetting out of the ruined stump of his arm.

Green Cloak laughed joyously as she ducked a clumsy sword swipe, kicked the man viciously in the gut, and smashed a knee up into his face with a crunch. The second attacker tried to tackle her, but Green Cloak flowed aside like water and hacked down across the back of his neck in one fluid motion. She made quick work of the first man before he could recover, twin slashes through his chest.

Aristide blocked the quick attacks from the lank-haired bandit before sweeping inside the fool's guard and burying his arming sword in the bandit's gut to the hilt, all thirty-two inches of steel. As the last standing enemy leapt at him insanely, Aristide pulled his weapon free and spun on his heel. He went into a two-handed grip as he spun, and Aristide cut his foe down at the waist.

The Grey Warden ended the encounter for good, grabbing Ugly by the hair and ramming the point of his blade through the screaming man's back, silencing him.

As Aristide caught his breath and surveyed the carnage Dubois spoke up "That sword... the name, Séverin. I know who you are now."

Aristide looked up, his face a mask of anger at the remark.

Green Cloak stepped forward, sheathing her weapons. She said "Well, don't leave us hanging, who is our noble Aristide?"

Dubois scoffed, "Ignoble is more like it. I heard the story. He was a minor noble, challenged three other noble sons to a duel and killed them all. Ended three noble lines in one terrible fight."

Aristide pointed his bloody sword at Dubois and responded gruffly "Do you know the whole story, Dubois? I doubt you do."

"So it's true?" Green Cloak asked.

The Grey Warden sighed, lowering his blade. He looked like the life had drained from him, "Only in the broadest strokes."

Green Cloak said "I'd like to hear the whole story then, Aristide."

"If you say so, my lady." Aristide took a bit of cloth from a coat pocket and began cleaning his sword, the Séverin family arming sword. After putting the weapon away he smoothed back his close-cropped, brown hair, salted with grey. He spoke haltingly at first, then with growing conviction, "Those noble sons were no innocent men as some would have you believe. There are no innocent men. They were drunkards and swine and bastards. Before my house fell we were nobility, yes, but not as rich and powerful as some, most even." Aristide stepped around some of the bodies, looking off down the road.

He seemed to shiver involuntarily despite the heat of the day. Aristide continued, "My little sister was at a masquerade ball, one where those three louts were present. She had been so excited to go; the expense prevented us from attending many such events. Those _noble_ sons were drunk, fooling around on the balcony of the grand hall, pushing each other. My sister was walking past when one of their shoving matches got out of hand. One of the bastards knocked into her and she... she fell over the rail."

"Did she...?" Dubois faltered in his question.

"Die?" Aristide said angrily "Yes, her neck was broken. I was not there; I had to learn of this from other guests at the ball."

"It sounds like an accident." Green Cloak said sadly.

"Aye, just an accident. But that was no consolation. I flew into a rage and challenged them all to a duel. Gave them a day to sober up and put their affairs in order." He gave a weak, humourless smile. "Only fair, I thought. I cut them down in _honourable_ combat, three on one. It was like a children's game, they were no match for me. But I misunderstood the real game. Their families had power, influence. They tried to style me as some bloodthirsty murderer. I would have hanged."

"But the wardens conscripted you." Green Cloak said.

"Yes. There were three Grey Wardens in the crowd and I was glad to be conscripted. It did not stop my parents being hounded out of Orlais to live with kin in Tantervale and their manse and wealth taken as compensation by the three families though. Or the assassins they sent for my head. They were also quick to spread stories to play the victim. Stories it seems most believe as fact. The Grand Game. That is what _this place_ is."

Dubois spoke up "I'm sorry my friend. As you say, I did not know the truth. I shouldn't have thought the worst of you."

Aristide shook his head, "It matters not; I have often thought the worst of myself. Killing them did not bring my sister back; all it brought was more grief and pain. Accepting such pain made me a Grey Warden." He grimaced before continuing "The wardens taught me many things. They taught me how to fight better than I ever would have from tutors in Val Royeaux. They taught me how to hunt for survival rather than sport. I learned discipline and respect. The wardens showed me fear, how to withstand it and how to use it. Perhaps some lives have been saved thanks to that."

The craftsman nodded, "You saved my life, both of you. I've never seen someone move like that milady."

Green Cloak smiled, "Oh that was just a light workout. Maybe I'll tell you about the dragon sometime." She turned and sauntered off along the road.

In unison Aristide and Dubois called after her "Dragon!?"

Sweet laughter rolled through the pines and oaks around them and the two men followed, leaving the bandits for the crows. Already a few of the birds had arrived. They perched in the nearby trees investigating, their little black eyes twinkling with an intelligence which belied their small frame. _Almost human,_ thought Aristide, _at times more so._ They got their first view of Val Royeaux less than ten minutes later. It hit Aristide harder than he would have thought. Many years had gone by since he had last been home. The great walls of the city prevented them from seeing much, but there were towers and spires which rose above the vast stone fortifications, most prominently those of the Grand Cathedral.

They continued on down the road. With five or six miles to go it would be dusk before they reached the city. As they walked Aristide asked "So, you were saying something about a dragon?"

Green Cloak waved a hand dismissively as she strode along. She spoke with a cheerful tone, "Oh, that. I fought a High Dragon. Turned its skull into a bowl, filled it with jasmine. Not much of a story there."

"Well..." Dubois said "What else would one put in a dragon skull bowl?"

Green Cloak giggled and said "Indeed. I had a friend who was much better at telling stories. Rather miss him now that I think about it."

Dubois said "It sounds like you've had many grand adventures, milady."

"A few," Green Cloak agreed "though not as many as my friend might claim. Still, it's not always as much fun as some think. I'd rather take life easier now." She stooped to pick a flower from the roadside and examined it as she walked. Almost as an afterthought she asked "How about you Dubois? How did you become a carpenter and carver? Family business?"

Dubois beamed with pride as he answered "I was trained as a carpenter by my mentor, Sébastien D'Aramitz, a great man. I learned to make carvings myself. I hope one day it will be a family business. I am teaching my son the trade. Perhaps generations from now my descendants will be carpenters to the Imperial Court."

Green Cloak replied "I'm sure they will."

Dubois nodded and smiled. He mopped sweat from his brow and said "Curse this heat; I'm not fit for it."

Aristide added as a grim aside, "Try it in plate and chainmail. Still, this is not as hot as the summer I first went to Orzammar. Sweltering heat even in linens, I do not doubt many died un-armoured because of it."

Green Cloak looked at him curiously. She said "I bet you've got a lot of stories to tell, Aristide."

He nodded, "Aye, my lady, but few with pleasant endings."

"Oh, perhaps I don't want to hear them then. I'd prefer a pleasant ending if I'm honest."

Aristide responded with a tinge of sadness, "As you say, my lady. I'd wager most people want the same." _Pleasant endings were not made for Grey Wardens,_ Aristide reflected. There was something about Green Cloak that made him think of past loves, brief as they may have been. There were women in the ranks of the Grey Wardens, Aristide respected them just like any who took the joining. People needed companionship but he had always felt discipline should be maintained amongst the wardens and sought such comfort elsewhere. Not everyone agreed with his philosophy, but he did not create grievances about it. Over the years he had had flings, brief trysts with outsiders, but never any lasting relationship. Was it wrong to keep looking for it?

They continued onwards, knowing their destination was close. After a while the Grey Warden began to make out a distant sound, like drums. Aristide heard the hoof beats clearly about half a mile away from them. From the sounds of it, there were quite a number of horses approaching. He tensed up involuntarily, old memories clawing at him.

Green Cloak must have noticed as she asked "More trouble?" Her hand brushed gently against the hilt of one of her weapons.

Aristide shook his head, "I don't think so."

It did not take long for their arrival. The armoured figures on their steeds approached at a canter and one bellowed "Make way! Make way there!"

Aristide and the others moved to the muddy embankment as they passed. The chevaliers rode on, but Aristide noted the disdainful looks from those knights who had raised the visors of their helmets. The one who led the cavalry had a great-helm with gilded trim and an ornament fashioned as a round castle tower atop it. The knight encased in that plate armour and padded surcoat would not recognise Aristide in his battered Grey Warden armour. It had been a long time since Ser Rousseau had taught a skinny, scab-kneed boy to fight with wooden practise swords. _The Maker mocks men at every opportunity, _he thought. Rousseau would be over eighty now, Aristide realised, perhaps this was a son or even a grandson. It did not matter; Aristide had left that life behind. His life belonged to the wardens, gladly. The only thing in this nest of snakes for Aristide was his mission. That was all that mattered. He could not tell if he had convinced himself of that. His thoughts still turned to old, scarred memories and to the woman in the green cloak. She was strange but also fascinating. There he went being foolish again; Green Cloak would not be interested in him. After all, what young adventurous woman would be interested in an old man, especially a Grey Warden who would probably go on his calling soon. Aristide's dreams had always been troubling since the joining, so much so that he had trained himself to get by on only four hours of sleep a night. They had been steadily getting worse over the past year. He had only told the Commander. Aristide would be better served focussing on getting into Val Royeaux and delivering the message. The Commander was counting on him.

Dubois broke him from his reverie, saying "Where were they when bandits blocked our path? Useless if you ask me, which I realise nobody did."

Aristide replied "I quite agree, my friend. I quite agree..."

As they started walking again Green Cloak said "I wouldn't mind a horse though. Walking is tiring."

Dubois mopped his brow hastily and said "It certainly is, milady. If things had worked out I'd be riding in a wagon just now."

"I walk more than ride." Aristide added dourly.

Green Cloak chuckled lightly. Her laugh was easy, like nothing could bother her. Except the hard glint in her eye told a different tale, one of a troubled past.

Aristide knew that look, or at least had heard the description from others in relation to his own past. Still, it was not his place to pry so the warden remained silent.

The gates of the city came into view as the sun was dipping, filling the sky with a purplish red hue. When they reached the gates the light was fading, growing darker by the moment. It seemed like it was going to be a gloomy night, as dark clouds were rolling in from the north. Aristide spoke up "We best hurry if we want entry to the city tonight. The guards will soon be closing the gates."

Up ahead guardsmen in bright livery were moving along the short queue of travellers. There was one wagon of goods being searched, the man at the reins of the muscled work horse conversing amiably with the sergeant in charge. Behind the wagon stood an assortment of people, most of whom were commoners. They wore dusty clothes, like themselves. Aristide noticed quite a few people clad in armour with weapons sheathed. From the oddments of leather, scale and chain, he guessed they were sellswords or otherwise in the market for employment in the field of soldiery. War really was brewing.

The three companions were eventually passed through the gates without incident, although Aristide believed the guards had held them up to leer at Green Cloak as long as they dared. He was reminded that while this was his home he still hated it here. _Give me darkspawn over these decadent idiots and simpering fools,_ he thought grimly, _at least I can kill darkspawn._

The three of them walked further into the square beyond the gates, going with the flow of the crowds. When they found an area which was not too busy they stopped to say their farewells.

Dubois turned to face Aristide and Green Cloak. He smiled happily and said "Well my friends, this is where we part ways. Thank you again for fighting off those bandits. I'm glad I ended up at those crossroads at the right time, Aristide. You never know who you'll meet upon the road to Val Royeaux, as the old saying goes. Goodbye Aristide Séverin." Bowing with a flourish he said "Goodbye milady."

"Goodbye Dubois, I hope life will treat you well." Green Cloak replied.

Aristide clasped hands with Dubois and clapped him on the shoulder. He said "Goodbye Zacharie, my friend."

As he began to leave Dubois spoke softly "When I return home I believe I will have new carvings to make. A bold Grey Warden and a beautiful warrior in a cloak. Farewell!"

When the carpenter was gone Aristide looked at Green Cloak and nodded once respectfully. "So now we must part ways, I have a message to deliver."

"And I have a city to see, and a friend to meet."

"A friend? Well, at least you can share the sights with someone." Aristide replied. "I never asked your name, it seems rude not to know the name of someone you've fought alongside."

Green Cloak looked into the distance for a moment and then smirked. She responded "Ok, you've got a point there, and we wouldn't want to be rude, would we?"

Aristide smiled, genuinely amused. He said "No, we wouldn't." There was something about the adventurer that he really liked.

Green Cloak quickly kissed him on the cheek and said "Call me Hawke, everyone does." With that she walked past Aristide and vanished into the evening crowds.

The Grey Warden turned about but could not spot her anywhere. He wondered if she was really the Hawke people spoke about, the Champion of Kirkwall, or someone else. He imagined he would never know. Aristide began walking towards his destination as he muttered to himself "You never know who you'll meet upon the road to Val Royeaux."


End file.
